In Between Breathing
by Bryan Greenberg
Summary: Two little words on the test in front of your eyes and all your dreams and fantasies are gone. They don't just take away a baby that never existed. They take away a life that could have. And so you cry. Sophie Oneshot post Unto the Breach. FluffAngst.


Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore Girls.

**In Between Breathing**

You hold your breath as you pull the stick from its box where you'd stored it for the past few minutes. Your eyes blur as you stare at the words in front of you. "Not Pregnant." You remember making fun of the commercials for this brand of pregnancy test with your mother. ("Because it's so much harder to tell the difference between pink and blue." "One line or two? So confusing." Always with a roll of your eyes.) But now, as your eyes fill with tears, you're glad you don't have to read the box, double and triple checking that blue means you're not pregnant. There's no moment of hoping that maybe, just maybe, you read wrong the first time. There's nothing left to do but break down. So you do.

You shouldn't be crying about this. You shouldn't have wanted to be pregnant. You're single, and he hasn't returned a single call or email in over a month. You're working at least a hundred hours a week and living out of a suitcase. Nothing in your life is ready for a child, and nothing could close all those open doors you talked about as quickly.

But you can close your eyes and see his big brown eyes blinking innocently on the face of a baby. You can see everything that would have come next if that test had just said something different. You can see all the silent pep talks you have to give yourself before you work gather the courage to call Honor for his address. You need to tell him this in person. She's reluctant to give it to you, at first. She knows he doesn't want to see you right now, that he doesn't want to see you ever again. You have to explain about the baby before she gives in.

You're standing on the front porch of his apartment building in Palo Alto. You take a deep breath before pressing the buzzer next to the card baring his name, trying to convince yourself that just maybe he'll be happy to see you. He sounds preoccupied when he answers over the intercom. "Yeah?"

"Hey," you reply softly, your nerves beginning to over take you, "I - I need to talk to you."

"Rory?" He questions, confused. "How did you find me?"

"I need to talk to you," you repeat, "Please."

Maybe he hears the desperation in your voice, because you hear him sigh and the door buzzing as it unlocks. You're grateful. You really don't want to tell him about the baby over an intercom while you're standing on the street. You make your way to the elevator, fidgeting all the way up to the fifth floor. You've gone over this moment in your head so many times, but, now that you're here, none of the varied reactions you've imagined him having seem plausible.

His door opens as you approach it, and there he is. He's wearing a suit, but it looks like he's been home for a few hours. His tie is gone, the collar is unbuttoned, and his pants look rumpled. He looks so good, and you can barely breathe. He steps back, opening the door wider. You walk in, neither of you saying a word.

You turn and look at him, pushing your hair behind your ears nervously. He looks at you expectantly, raising his eyebrows. "What are you doing here?" he asks, his voice low.

You take a deep breath. This is it. "I had to see you. I had to tell you that I'm - I'm..." You break off. This is so much harder with his eyes on you, searching your face. You place your hand on your stomach, hoping to gain strength from the little part of him that's in you. "Pregnant. We're pregnant."

His eyes widen. This isn't what he was expected you to say. "Pregnant," he repeats, "I don't know what to...wow." He looks at you now, really looking at you for the first time since he got here. "You should sit," he says after a minute of silence. "You look tired. Sit." He guides you to the couch before beginning to pace.

You smile a little that he's worried about you, or at least the baby. You watch him pace for a while in silence until you can't handle it anymore. "Logan," you begin tentatively, "do you have anything to say? Something? Please?"

He looks at you. "Sorry," he says quietly. He sits next to you, turning to face you. "A baby?" he asks and you nod. "Ok," he says, "A baby. We can handle this. We'll figure this out."

And you can breathe again. He said we. He wants to be a part of your baby's life. Tears of relief begin to spill down your face as just a little bit of your stress dissipates.

"Hey," he says, brushing a tear away. "It will be ok." You smile because you know he's right.

It won't happen like you've always imagined starting a family with him would. You won't fall into each other's arms, and this baby won't fix what broke between you. But this baby will have two parents who will love it and be there no matter what. You'll have to find a new job. One that won't take the toll on you and the baby that your current one does. Something near Logan because while your mother may have taught you that it was possible to do this on your own, you really don't want to, and you could never forgive yourself if you forced Logan to be his father or even yours. It would break his heart.

Your mother will be disappointed that you made the same mistake she did, but she'll try really hard to hide that. She'll try to be supportive and will keep her grumbled comments about Logan to a minimum, at least while you're around. But you'll know what she means and what she's saying behind your back. She'll always be your mother and your best friend, but you'll know that this, albeit unconventional, family is worth whatever distance it creates with her. And you'll hope that someday she'll realize that your life is pretty damn good even if you didn't follow the plan. Just like hers was.

You'll have a girl, you're certain. Logan will spoil her and make plans to keep her locked up through her teenage years before you're even out of the hospital. The two of you will work through all the awkward beginning phases and become friends for her, and, eventually, you won't yearn quite so much every time you look at him.

He'll be at every birthday party, every holiday. He'll make sure he's never working too much to be there for his daughter. He'll worry about her every time she has a sleep over and every summer she's away at camp, and he'll tell her every skirt is too short, every shirt is too low cut. He'll hold her hand while you cry as she goes off to Yale or Stanford or whatever she goes off to do when it's time for her to leave home. You won't have the same relationship with her that you had with your mother, but you'll both have him, and that's so much better.

And maybe one day when she's five or ten or twenty, you'll both get a little tipsy and loose yourselves in the sexual tension. And maybe when you wake up he'll still be there. Maybe he'll kiss your bare shoulder like he used to when you woke up together. You'll do and be all the things you would have if you hadn't been so focused on keeping all your opportunities that you missed the most important one. You'll go to Asia, and he'll make guacamole.

Or maybe that won't happen. Maybe you'll never get back to that place, and you'll stay friends. You'll always be connected through her. But you know it will be ok.

Except that it won't. Two little words on the test in front of your eyes and all your dreams and fantasies are gone. They don't just take away a baby that never existed. They take away a life that could have. And so you cry.

**End.**


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